Date: Mon, 24 Oct 2011 22:45:32 -0400 (EDT)
From: Bwstories8@aol.com
Subject: A Halloween Nightmare
A Halloween Nightmare -- by BW
Copyright 2011 by Billwstories
"What do we have here?" I heard a voice ask.
It didn't really sound like a typical voice though, because
it had sort of hollow tone to it and appeared to be coming
from somewhere in the distance.
"It's the body of an unidentified male that was found in an
alley downtown," another voice replied. "It appears as if
he was mugged after coming out of a Halloween party at
one of the bars and he presumably died during the
commission of that crime. He was pronounced dead at the
scene and we were told to bring the body to the morgue."
"Ok, just wheel your gurney over here and place him on
my table," the first voice instructed. "I'll begin the
autopsy shortly."
I felt myself being moved and I was placed on a cold,
stainless steel table.
'Hey, hold on a minute!' I tried to scream. 'I'm not dead
and I'm Colby, not just a body. There's no need for an
autopsy, because I'm alive. What kind of medical
professional declares me dead when I'm obviously still
breathing?'
I knew that's what I was thinking, but I didn't hear any
sounds coming out of my mouth and no one reacted as if
they'd heard anything. What the fuck is going on here?
Wait! Just let me think this through.
I've just got to mentally back up and figure out what's
happening. I'll start the evening over in my mind and
return to when I was putting on the Dracula costume in
my dorm room. I was getting ready to head downtown to
attend the big Halloween bash at the local gay bar. Their
advertisement for tonight indicated they were going to
wave the cover charge and give a free drink to anyone who
showed up in costume, so I was definitely going to cash in
on this promotion.
When I got there, the place was fairly crowded already,
and damn, there were some pretty elaborate get ups in the
crowd. I'd thought I had a pretty decent costume when I'd
put it on, but now I was suddenly beginning to feel that I
was underdressed. Some of these people really went all
out this year, but then again I guess some gays will use
any excuse to be able to dress up, parade around and show
off for their friends.
I remember having a few drinks and dancing with a couple
of other guys, but they were just out for a good time and
hoping to score a quickie, with no strings attached. I
wasn't up for that scene or playing the part of someone's
'slut de jour,' so I moved on. After a while I grew tired of
the place and decided to return to campus. I had just
exited through the front door and was walking down the
street when I was unexpectedly grabbed from behind and
unceremoniously shoved into an alley.
"Well, look what we've got here," the guy in front of me
began, while his partner held me from behind. "It looks as
though we've captured a fag in drag."
I guess he thought this because of the cape I was wearing.
"I'm not dressed up as a woman," I corrected him. "I'm a
vampire in evening attire."
"You look like a fucking lesbo drag king to me," he spat
back.
"Very funny. Ok, you've had your fun for the evening,
now let me go," I suggested. "No harm, no foul.
Especially on a night like tonight."
"Oh, but we're not done with you yet," the creep snapped
back. "My buddy and I hate fags and we're tired of seeing
them parading around town like they own the fucking
place. In fact, we don't believe homos even deserve to
live, so we've decided that tonight would be a good time to
go fag hunting. As far as we're concerned, queers are in
season and you're the first faggot we've bagged tonight."
"Ha Ha Ha, very funny," I replied, although I was actually
scared shitless.
I might have wanted him to think I was laughing this off
and attempting to downplay what was happening, but I
could tell these goons weren't joking. They were dead
serious about this, which made me hope I wasn't dead
when this confrontation ended.
"If you want money, I'll give you everything I have," I
offered, while hoping this might be enough of a distraction
to derail their plans.
"Don't worry, we'll get that too," the guy snarled back,
"because you certainly won't be needing it."
I heard his buddy laugh behind me, as he forced my arms
even more tightly together behind my back. I winced in
pain.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did he hurt you?" the guy in front of me
asked, in mocked concern. "I'm afraid you're going to
think that pain is nothing, when compared to what you're
going to feel before we're through with you."
I was totally panicked now. What the fuck are they
planning to do to me? I was trying desperately to think of
a way to get out of this predicament before they're able to
follow through on their threats.
"Look, just let me go and I won't say a thing," I offered.
"You can take my money and anything else you want, but
there's no need to hurt me. I don't pose a threat to you
and I promise not to say a word about this."
"No, you definitely don't pose a threat to us and you
certainly aren't going to tell anyone, because we're going
to make sure you'll never talk again," he sneered.
At this point, my panic kicked into overdrive. He wasn't
fooling around and these two guys obviously planned to
hurt me -- possibly even kill me. I began to struggle and
attempted to break free, but his buddy was decidedly
much stronger than I was. He also had my arms pinned
behind me, so I couldn't use them at all. I was thinking
about smashing my head back into his face, figuring that
might cause him to release his grip, at least temporarily,
when I suddenly felt something come crashing into my
stomach. It was so forceful that it knocked all of the wind
out of my lungs.
As I crumpled forward, I looked up to see if I could figure
out what had just happened. The guy in front of me was
pulling his arm back again and I could see it held a metal
pipe. That must have been what he used to hit me in the
gut, but now it looked as if he was getting ready to strike
me again.
Without warning, his partner suddenly released my arms
and I dropped to my knees on the pavement in front of
him. My attacker then brought his arm forward again, but
this time the pipe crashed into my skull. There was a
sickening dull thud as it made contact and my body tilted
dramatically to one side. He was using my head as a
target, the same way he would if he were smashing
pumpkins.
I'm not sure what happened after that, but I think he hit
me a few more times and then everything went black. I
don't remember anything else from that point on, not
until I woke up here -- or did I wake up? These guys
evidently don't see it that way.
Wait! What are they doing to me now? Fuck! They're
cutting my clothes off. They're stripping me naked and
exposing me to their full inspection -- and without even so
much as a kiss or a hug. I guess I might have been better
off hooking up with one of the guys at the bar for a one-
night stand.
Shit, this table is freezing and the cold metal pressed
against my flesh is making me shiver. Surely they must
be able to see that. Right? Why aren't they picking up on
any of these clues? Can't they tell I'm not dead? Oh
fuck! The one guy seems to be picking up a scalpel as he
begins speaking into a microphone.
"This is Coroner Timothy Struble and I'm about to
perform an autopsy on an unidentified male that was
brought in here a short time ago. It is now approximately
10:20 on October 31st, Halloween night.
"The subject is approximately twenty-one years of age," he
continued, "at least I suspect he must be that old since he
was attacked after leaving a bar. He is approximately five
feet, ten inches tall, has a moderate build and weighs
approximately 150 pounds. He also has brown hair,
brown-eyes and very little body hair. From what I can tell,
the victim appears to have been a fairly fit young man.
"Moving on to his injuries," he kept going, "the subject
seems to have been the recipient of at least two blows
from some kind of heavy, rounded implement, roughly an
inch in diameter, to the occipital region of the left side of
his cranium. These appear to have been the fatal blows,
but I won't know for certain until I examine his brain. The
subject also shows signs of some pre-mortem bruising to
the abdomen, possibly caused by blows received from the
same or similar instrument.
"I'm about to make my first incision..." he stated, as he
brought the scalpel into contact with my chest.
'Wait! Don't cut me. I'm not dead!' I screamed, but
nothing came out. Oh, fuck. I can feel the blade sinking
into my skin.
"What the hell!" the Coroner screamed. "This person isn't
dead. He's bleeding! Jack, get over here and help me
apply pressure to the area around the incision I just made.
Andy, I want you to call for an ambulance. We need to get
him to a hospital, stat."
The Coroner was speaking to his assistants after he,
thankfully, realized I wasn't dead. Up until that moment,
he was actually going to slice me open! Why the hell
couldn't they tell I was still alive?
A short time later, but I'm not really certain how long it
was, a couple of other people came into the room. They
hurried over and removed my body from the cold metal
table and placed it on a gurney. Then, they covered my
naked torso with a sheet. Now that some of my dignity
had been restored, I was wheeled out of there and placed
in an ambulance. One EMT was hovering over me the
entire time, while checking my vital signs and trying to
figure out why he hadn't detected anything earlier.
"This is fucking screwy," I heard him say to the driver. "I
know I checked this guy's vitals when we were first called
to the scene, but nothing registered. He had no pulse, no
BP and his pupils were fixed and dilated. Now, I can
detect his heartbeat, blood pressure and his pupils are
responding normally again. Why the hell didn't I get
anything from him before?"
The driver had no answer -- at least nothing concrete. He
merely stated he'd never seen anything like that before,
but he knew that sometimes shit like this happened. He
also told the EMT working on me that it wasn't his fault,
because he watched him take my vitals earlier. He kept
reassuring him that he'd done everything he was supposed
to do and that he had done nothing wrong, but for some
reason my vital signs hadn't registered and merely
managed to slip through the cracks.
Slipped through the cracks? Is that the best he can come
up with? The friggin' Coroner was ready to dissect me and
remove my organs, yet he tells this guy next to me that he
did everything he could and I just slipped through the
cracks. When I get better, I'm going to look them both up
and help them slip through the cracks, so they can see
how they like it.
Actually, I'd better stop thinking about what's already
happened and can't be changed. Instead, I've got to find a
way to communicate with someone, so I can explain what
took place and give him a description of my attacker. I'll
never forget the face of the guy who beat me with the
pipe, but I never got a look at his partner. I can only hope
that if I can somehow lead the cops to the guy who did all
of the damage and hope that he might be willing to give up
his partner in order to get a better deal.
After the ambulance pulled up to the Emergency Room
entrance, I was wheeled inside. A doctor and a bunch of
nurses rushed over to meet us and began checking me
over. I heard the EMT as he began to explain everything
that had happened, from the time they were first called to
the scene and he was unable to get my vitals, up to and
including them taking me to the morgue. He then went
on to explain that a short time after they left me there,
they were called back when the Coroner determined I
wasn't dead yet. I heard one of the nurses gasp after he
said this, while the doctor began to suture up the incision
the Coroner had started to make on my chest.
For some reason, I was aware of everything that was going
on, but I was unable to speak or get anyone's attention. I
kept hearing them discussing a bunch of different things,
such as that I'm in a coma or they suspected I might have
sustained brain damage during the attack, but how can
that be? I feel fine and am fully aware of everything that
is going on. The only problem is that I can't respond to
them physically.
Damn! Will I be like this from now on or will I regain
control over my body again? Will I retain consciousness
only to be trapped in this shell of a body, without being
able to interact with the rest of the world, or will my
condition improve? I certainly hope something changes
so I don't end up staying like this.
Eventually, I was placed on a hospital bed. I had machines
monitoring my vital signs, with all kinds of tubes and
wires connected to my body. Some of these tubes were
providing me with liquids and drugs, while others supplied
me with nutrients. I had a much larger tube attached to
my mouth and it was connected to a machine that was
helping me breathe. Plus a bunch of wires were attached
to my chest and head, which monitored my heart rate and
brain activity. I was beginning to feel more like a robotic
life form than a living being.
For days on end, I tried to find a way to be able to indicate
to them that I was aware of everything that was going on
around me, but it was all to no avail. Something was
preventing me from speaking and I had absolutely no
control over my body. Hell, I'm not even sure if I'm
capable of opening and closing my eyes or if they just
remained open all of the time, but whatever the case, I
can see people scurrying in and out of the room.
I'm glad to see that they must have been able to figure out
who I am, because my parents showed up and have been
staying at my bedside. I could see the tears in my
mother's eyes, as she tried to straighten my hair with her
fingers and kissed me gently on the forehead. I could also
read the horror and outrage on my father's face when he
saw the condition I was in and wondered how one human
being could do this to another. Maybe that was the point.
It's possible the guy who did this isn't really human -- at
least not as we understand the word.
I was aware that they stayed there with me most of the
day. They would occasionally leave to use the toilet or go
to grab a quick bite to eat, but they spent most of their
time by my side. Once visiting hours were over, they left
to go back to wherever they were staying so they could get
some sleep, but then they returned the next day.
I also suspected my dad must have taken some time off
from work so he'd be able to be here and I appreciated
that he would go to so much trouble for me. However, this
doesn't mean that I didn't have problems with them being
here. I was deeply concerned about this fact, because
every day they stayed here with me it seemed as if I was
watching them age a year in the process. Damn. Why
can't I speak to them? I don't want my parents to worry
about me and possibly get ill because they're spending all
their time here. I don't want to watch them grow old
prematurely, just because they're worried that I'm not
going to recover.
'Mom, Dad, I'm all right. Please, don't be so sad. I know
everything's going to be fine,' I kept trying to reassure
them. I even attempted to use telepathy to communicate
with them, but I obviously wasn't getting through.
Time was passing by very slowly and the days seemed to
drag on forever. Although I had no idea about the actual
passage of time while I was in this condition, I got an
indication about how much time had elapsed when my
mother wished me a Happy Thanksgiving. Holy shit! Has
it been almost a month since this happened? I thought
time was dragging, so I had no idea that I'd been like this
for so long. Come on. I need to speak to my parents, so I
can let them know I'm ok and they don't have to worry.
Please, God. Let me at least be able to tell them that
much.
I had also noticed that my father would be gone for a while
and then suddenly show up again, so I imagine he'd had to
return to his job and just came back here on the weekend.
My mother stayed with me though and was there most of
the time, so Dad must have been bringing things back for
her so she could continue to stay with me.
As the days continued to pass, I noticed that someone had
strung Christmas lights up around the window in my room
and they'd also placed a small stand against the far wall
and decorated a tiny Christmas tree on it. Damn, is it
almost Christmas now too?
I knew I couldn't let my Mom and Dad go through this
holiday not knowing if I'd ever get better or recover from
my injuries. I knew I just had to will myself to find a way
to get well, because I didn't want my parents to continue
wondering if they'd lost their only child.
I spent much of my time attempting to utter a sound, any
sound, or force my muscles to contract in a way that
would make even the slightest movement in one of my
limbs, but nothing worked. I was convinced that I had to
discover a way to offer my parents some encouragement,
even if it was to just say one word to them, knowing it
would make them feel better.
That evening, I inadvertently discovered a partial answer
about my current predicament. It isn't that I lack the
ability to do these things, but something else seems to
have taken control of my body and that's what is keeping
me like this. I only became aware of this situation when
another force tried to rectify the problem for me.
Ok, I suspect you're probably confused about what I've
said, so please allow me the opportunity to clarify this
situation for you. It all started to become clear to me
later that night, after everyone had left and I was alone in
my room, with the lights turned off. I had been lying in
bed for a while, thinking about my current situation, when
I began to notice a shadowy form moving about. I had no
idea what it was, or even if it was something other than
my mind playing a trick on me, so I tried to figure out if
anything was really there.
After watching it for a while, it began to materialize into
something more substantial and a form I could recognize.
It was now the semi-translucent shape of a man in a long
white coat -- well actually everything about him was totally
white, except it was clearly not a solid object. Anyway,
this thing came over beside my bed and I quickly became
aware that it was doing something, although I had no idea
what. I wasn't able to turn my head so I could discern
exactly what it was up to, but after a few moments I felt
the IV needle dislodge from my arm.
Without warning, another shadowy figure leapt out of my
body and began to wrestle with the first apparition. For a
long time those two entities fought with one another, and
although I'm not certain how I knew this, I realized they
were fighting for control of my physical body. The thing
that had suddenly extricated itself from my body was
obviously trying to prevent me from moving or speaking,
so I wondered if this other form was attempting to allow
me to regain the control that I now lacked.
Had that second entity been preventing me from being
able to communicate or move this entire time? Had it
masked my vital signs and that's why the EMT didn't get
any readings? Was it trying to get the Coroner to slice me
up and kill me? Why? What had I done to deserve this?
I had no idea what was going on or why these two shadowy
figures had seemed to be battling over me. What was
really going on here and how was I involved? Is this
happening merely because I'm gay or did my body just
happened to become available at the right time, after I'd
been beaten and knocked unconscious?
As I returned my attention back to what the two entities
were currently doing, I noticed the apparition in the white
coat was struggling to keep the other one from regaining
control over me again. That's when I realized I might now
be able to let my parents know I was all right, if I could
find a way to do it while this standoff was continuing.
It's too bad no one was in the room with me now, but I
became determined that I would try to speak to my
mother when she returned. I would call out to her and try
to reassure her that I was going to be fine, since she'd
been here worrying about me during this entire time. I
also felt that if she heard me say something it would give
her hope that everything is going to be fine.
When she arrived that morning, I immediately tried to
utter a sound, but nothing happened. I didn't understand
why I still couldn't communicate with her, since I didn't
think that thing had control over my body any longer, but
I was still very frustrated that nothing was happening. I
didn't give up though and kept trying, until finally I heard
what I thought was a sound coming from my throat.
"Mm..." was all that I got out while trying to say 'Mom.'
Immediately, my mother turned toward me and a glimmer
of hope began to radiate across her face.
"Colby, was that you?" she asked. "Did you say
something?"
'Yes, I did,' I wanted to scream, but nothing more came
out.
This must have given my mother the encouragement she
was looking for to indicate that I was coming around,
because she raced out of the room and went directly to
the nurses' station. A short time later she returned,
dragging one of the nurses along with her.
"He made a sound," my mother stated, as they entered. "I
think he's coming to."
The nurse quickly walked over to my bed and began
checking me over. That's when she discovered the IV was
no longer connected to my arm.
"Since I see he's dislodged his IV and it's seemed to have
helped, rather than setting his recovery back, I'll speak
with the doctor and see if we can change some of his
meds," she told my mother. "It's possible the medication
has been making him groggy and preventing him from
being able to speak."
Before long, a doctor entered the room with the nurse. He
stopped and spoke briefly with my mother first, but then
gave me another cursory examination. After that, he
checked my chart and wrote down some new directions for
my care. The doctor and nurse left shortly after that, but
within minutes the nurse came back and was busy
changing my IV and hooking me up to it. I hope she's
correct and this allows me to start regaining some control
over my body.
Over the next hour, I kept trying to say something more
to my mother, but I wasn't having any success. I didn't
give up though and kept trying until it happened again.
"Mah..." I managed this time.
My mother squeezed my hand and smiled.
"I'm here, son," she assured me. "You're going to be fine.
I just know it. You're going to come out of this and give
your father and me the Christmas miracle we've been
praying for."
I had no idea how close we were to the actually holiday,
but I think that expression would have been appropriate
for nearly anything that happened during the month of
December. I don't really care what day it is though. All I
want to do is to start living my life again and be able to
assure my parents that I'm back.
After several more tries, I got the entire word 'Mom' to
come out. She and the nurse both looked thrilled and I
felt as if I'd just made a major accomplishment. Can you
believe that? A college senior impressed by the fact that
he'd just said the word 'Mom."
By the following day, I was able to get out an entire
sentence, although it was choppy and my speech was
halting. Even though I was able to speak now, I chose not
to tell anyone about what I'd seen with the shadowy
figures and all. First of all, they probably wouldn't have
believed me and would think I'd just been hallucinating,
but then again even I wasn't certain if it had been more
than just an illusion.
Now that I was getting back to normal, my mother
informed me that Christmas Day is the day after tomorrow
and hearing me speak and knowing I'm going to recover is
the best Christmas present she could have ever received.
I had trouble believing it had been nearly two months
since I'd been attacked, but I'm happy my parents aren't
going to have to spend this Christmas wondering if I'm
going to live or die. Now, they know that everything is
going to be just fine.
When my father returned, he was thrilled to see I was alert
and able to speak again, no matter how primitive it
sounded. He felt it was a good sign and indicates that I'm
going to recover completely.
It was an unusual Christmas to say the least, but I don't
think any of us have ever enjoyed the day more. Nor have
we ever appreciated a gift as much as the present we'd
received this year -- my life had been given back to me. It
was a truly joyous day.
The following afternoon, a detective showed up, so he
could ask me a few questions. It was apparent that
someone from the hospital had called the station and told
them I had regained consciousness and started speaking
again. The detective started out by saying he understood
it had been a long time since the incident had occurred,
and I quickly interrupted him. I felt I had to correct what
he'd just said and insisted that he stop referring to it as
'the incident' and call it what it truly was, 'the day I'd
been beaten to within an inch of my life.' He agreed that
phrase might be more appropriate and then went on to ask
if I could remember anything about that day.
I began by telling him that I could remember every detail
from that night, up until I blacked out, and then I went on
to describe exactly what happened after I left the bar. I
gave him a detailed description of the guy who had beaten
me, and then he asked if I thought I might be able to pick
out a mug shot of him, if I was shown some pictures. I
assured him I most definitely could and emphasized my
point by telling him that I'll never be able to erase that
face from my memory. I was only sorry that I hadn't seen
the other man.
The following day he returned with a book filled with
photos. I had only gone through about twenty pages when
I spotted the face of my attacker. After I pointed him out,
the detective began to nod his head slightly. I think his
reaction meant he'd obviously had a run-in with this guy
before.
When the cops picked the man up later, another guy was
with him, so they brought him along to see if he might
also know something about what had happened on
Halloween. After grilling both men for several hours, the
second man finally admitted that he had helped his friend
attack me. He also insisted that he had been led to
believe that they were only going to rob me, not beat the
living hell out of me, so he eventually agreed to turn
State's evidence. He was willing to testify against the
actual attacker for a reduced sentence and the promise of
being placed in protective custody while he was in prison.
It took me a long time to recover from what had happened
as a result of the attack, so it was another year and a half
before I was able to return to college and start my senior
year over. I was a few weeks into my first semester back,
when one night I decided that I needed to go to the library
to study. I selected a table to sit at and hurriedly moved
the books and other things that people had left there.
Once there was enough space for me to spread out my
things, I cracked open the books and got busy.
I had been working for quite a while when I heard what
sounded to be a book hitting the table. Startled, I looked
up to see what was going on. I was surprised that there
was no one around, since I figured someone must have
dropped something on the table, but I did notice that one
of the books on the table was now open. I know this had
not been the case when I'd cleared enough space to work,
because all the books had been closed then, so I decided to
take a quick peek at it to see what the book was about.
As I moved closer, I spotted a picture on one of the pages.
The face staring back at me seemed familiar, although the
man appeared to be very gruff, but I studied it for a
moment, to see if I could figure out why I thought I
recognized him. That's when I suddenly realized I was
staring into the face of the apparition that had been in
control of my body after I'd been beaten.
I suddenly forgot all about what I'd been working on and
began reading about this person. It turns out he was one
of those fire and brimstone preachers from the middle of
the twentieth century who had been hell bent on
condemning gays and vilifying the lifestyle.
After I understood the man's background, I realized that
he had probably been trying to destroy me because I was
gay. What I didn't know was if he had any sort of prior
connection to the two guys who'd attacked me in the first
place. Were they possibly his relatives and this attack had
been a set up from the start? Had his spirit in some way
controlled or influenced their actions? Was I the actual
target or only a convenient subject he used in his attempt
to snuff out homosexuals? Was this guy's hatred of gays
so strong that his spirit had hung around after his death
so he could try to eliminate all gays, one at a time? Wow!
Could a person's hatred be so strong that it could live on
after his death?
I tried not to think about this again, because it was very
troubling, but that changed shortly after I returned home
for the summer. I'd only been back for a little over a week
when my grandmother suddenly took ill, so I went with
my parents to be with her at the hospital. That night,
after visiting hours had ended, we all ended up going back
to my grandparents' house with my grandfather, because
we were going to spend the night there. We had been
chatting with him for a while when I realized I needed to
use the toilet. I had just gotten up to make my way to the
bathroom when I spotted a picture on the wall.
"Grandpa, who is this man?" I asked, while pointing at the
picture.
"That's your grandmother's father," he answered. "He was
the only physician in this town for quite a while, but that
was many years ago. He was a pretty important man back
then."
I'm sure he was, because that's the form in the white coat
that I saw in the hospital room that night -- the one that
fought the other spirit that was trying to control my body
and might have even been trying to hasten my death. I'm
not sure if he'd ever had any contact with that preacher
while they were both alive, but I'll never forget the
contact he had with him after death. That's because I now
realize that my own great-grandfather had been the one
who saved me.
Since this event is now behind me and I've been able to
gain a little knowledge about the forces behind what had
taken place, I know I'll never look at Halloween the same
way again. I'm still not convinced if this happened like it
did merely because it was Halloween, but I now have a
totally different perspective concerning supernatural
occurrences. I no longer laugh at people who talk about
the spirit world or believe in ghosts, but there's also one
other major change that's occurred. After the events of
that day, I'm extremely leery about going anyplace alone,
because who knows what evil may be lurking around the
next corner.
THE END